


mountains (and the moon that settles like spring)

by vagarius



Series: objects (and this soft little thing we share) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Companionship, Conversations, M/M, awkward similes 2.0, hinata and yamaguchi show up like twice, pretty platonic but when do i ever write different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vagarius/pseuds/vagarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima's like the calm before a rain, or a dusting of snow, the kind that's in the forecast, and yet people still forget their umbrellas and coats. He doesn't say this, though, because he can't ever hope to put it all into words, and instead tells him, "I don't know," and wishes Tsukishima could see it, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mountains (and the moon that settles like spring)

**Author's Note:**

> grouped together with fairy lights because writing this fic reminded me of it. don't have to read one to understand the other
> 
> also i wrote this at like midnight and finished it this morning so

"Look at you," Tsukishima drawls, after their first successful block in the second set, "Taking orders from a commoner."

Kageyama seethes, and reluctantly thinks, _that's because you know how to block better than I ever will,_ before he lets the thought go, in favor of the game.

He doesn't realize until later that while Tsukishima referred to himself as a commoner, he never did call Kageyama a king.

 

"Kageyama," Tsukishima calls, and it's so surreal that Kageyama's not sure he heard right, and then he hears it again, "Kageyama." A sigh. " _Kageyama_."

Kageyama blinks, and eloquently, he says, "Um. Yes?"

Tsukishima sighs again, and it sounds like exasperation rather than annoyance, and Yamaguchi's giggling in the background, somewhere in the dusty clubroom they call a good place to study. "You're hopeless," he deadpans, "Worse than Hinata." Yamaguchi giggles some more, accompanied by Hinata's indignant squawks, and Kageyama can't find it in himself to deny them of this simple moment they seemed to have found.

And it's then that Kageyama sighs, too, and admits that the clubroom doesn't feel all that dusty, anymore, with the four of them smearing away the dust with noise and the scent of sweat with lingering exhales.

 

"Teach me how to think when I block," Kageyama says, outright and with conviction, and wonders if it's worth it when Tsukishima turns to look at him.

His face is slightly pinched, and more that slightly confused, and when he lets out a small _haah?_ his eyes widen just a bit behind his glasses. After a moment, though, the look fades, and all that is left is a soft kind of surprise, like a kid who's just been complimented and is unsure what to do.

And when he tells Kageyama, "I can't just _teach_ you that," it should sound biting, but all Kageyama hears is a sliver of spring, travelling its way through layers and layers of nighttime frost.

 

"If you're the moon," Kageyama asks, one day, when the breeze outside convenience store is pleasantly cool, and the night feels unusually endless, with the team at his back and Tsukishima at his side, "and Hinata's the sun, what does that make me?"

Tsukishima looks down at him. "Why do you need to know?"

"I don't," Kageyama replies, because he doesn't - he already knows that he fits into this equation, this long metaphor of the endless sky of first-years turned second-years, and that's all he'll ever need to know, but he's _curious,_ is all. "I'm just curious."

"Well, be less curious, then." Tsukishima's voice is as flat as ever, in a way that pricks cold at Kageyama's skin, but there's also something that flows like water more than it freezes like ice, so Kageyama waits. And Tsukishima says, "You're a mountain, I suppose. _Yama,_ and all."

Kageyama frowns. "But Yamaguchi is also _yama._ "

"That may be so, but he has too many sides to be a mountain. And too many freckles. He's the stars," Tsukishima counters, and it makes sense and at the same time no sense, because _what does that make me._

"You basically just called Kageyama a wall," Hinata pipes up from behind them, " _Kabeyama,_ get it? _Kabe."_

"But walls have two sides, Hinata, not one," Yamaguchi adds, and Tsukishima chuckles, just a little. It isn't a sweet sound, but it rumbles warmly, and when Kageyama turns to look, Tsukishima turns, too, and Kageyama is left staring at sweater-clad shoulders and blond hair that glows in the endless night.

 

"Your," Kageyama pauses, and there are so many things he could point out right now, like his face and his knees and even his sneakers, and it still wouldn't encompass everything, "fingers."

Tsukishima smirks, but doesn't look up, and all Kageyama thinks is _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ but he can't very well _say_ that, so he stays silent, for the sake of the moment. Then Tsukishima opens his mouth in retort, and Kageyama cringes, because the action separates a not-so-neat line of crusted blood that runs from the bottom of his nose to the tip of his chin. "My fingers are fine," he says, and Kageyama belatedly realizes that they are.

"But." Kageyama pauses again, and gestures to literally _every other part of Tsukishima._ "That. Nurse. You go. Should, probably."

"No thanks," Tsukishima snaps, and it's the novelty of the thing, this fragile little bond they have, that Tsukishima doesn't bother asking what Kageyama's broken speech and vague gestures could possibly mean, because he already knows. Instead, he looks up with either determination or desperation, and Kageyama offers to get a wet cloth from the clubroom, and doesn't ask what he means, either.

When Kageyama comes back with the cloth, he hands it to Tsukishima, and walks away. He doesn't wipe the blood off for him, and he doesn't stay to see if Tsukishima wipes it off himself, and he doesn't comment when Tsukishima misses practice that day.

Kageyama doesn't dare to call it trust, this thing they share; trust is a volleyball feeling. This is a Tsukishima and Kageyama feeling – the feeling of the moon setting behind the mountains rather than the clouds, and finding a space there, as the rest of the sky dribbles red.

 

"Kageyama," Tsukishima articulates, as he stares down at his water bottle during break, and Kageyama leans imperceptibly closer, "What do you see when I'm on the court?"

Tsukishima looks up, then, and Kageyama's breath catches, because he can _see_ it, see Tsukishima there, next to him, and it's like the calm before – not a storm, Tsukishima's too subtle for that, too _Tsukishima,_ and Kageyama thinks that he looks like the calm before a rain, or a dusting of snow, the kind that's in the forecast, and yet people still forget their umbrellas and coats. And Kageyama sees even farther than that, sees the sun shining off the water and children bright against the barely-there cold, and he sees himself, passing through the afternoon drizzle.

He doesn't say this, though, because he can't ever hope to put it all into words, and instead tells him, "I don't know," and wishes Tsukishima could see it, too.

 

"Are you okay?" Tsukishima asks, and Kageyama yawns in his face unabashedly. "Of course you aren't," Tsukishima continues, "You fell asleep during lunch, not class."

Kageyama can't deny that, so there's no real reason to deny the first claim, either, and Kageyama accepts his shitty day with all its parts. "I suppose not," he mumbles, and tries to go back to sleep.

Tsukishima shakes his shoulder, "Oi," he comments, deliberately, "You're not a rock." He shakes his shoulder some more, and Kageyama reluctantly lifts his head off his arms.

"Could've fooled me," he returns, quietly, and snuggles as best he can into his desk.

"At _least_ live your life as a rock with no regrets," Tsukishima tells him, rearranging his arms and head until his neck and back are in a more comfortable position, "Would suck to become a metamorphic rock under all that pressure."

Kageyama doesn't know what that means, but he thinks it's okay, because Tsukishima's voice is soft, like the lines of his face, or a gust of spring air.

 

"Why do you refer to yourself as a commoner?" Kageyama wonders out loud, and Tsukishima tenses beside him.

"Because I am one," he answers, and it would sound so simple, if only it were true.

Kageyama tilts his head. "But," he points out, "You're not?"

"I am," Tsukishima insists.

_But you're not,_ Kageyama thinks but doesn't repeat, and lets the conversation fade like rain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> was actually just gonna call this fic "conversations" at first, but then it reminded me of fairy lights, so i changed the title and made it a "series," but it ended up a lot less like fairy lights than i was expecting. difference in how i was feeling, i suppose.
> 
> also: yama is mountain in japanese, and kabe is wall, just in case that confused you


End file.
